


Old fears, New nightmares

by CastielsCarma



Series: Kinktober 2020 [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Suffers, Emetophobia, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Season 15 divergence, Someone dies, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Vomiting, Whump, not dean or cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: Amid trying to defeat God, Cas finds a book that curses him with the Mark. Dean tries to run from Cas but he can't hide.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Kinktober 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949407
Comments: 11
Kudos: 64





	Old fears, New nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> This is my prompt for day 20 of Kinktober: Foodplay, cream pie, or **noncon/dubcon**.
> 
> I planned for this to be short because I start work early tm but hey, what is sleep. I chose not to use warnings on this one, so read at your own risk. If there's something I should tag, let me know.
> 
> Enjoy! Kudos and comments make me go yay.

Dean shuts the door behind him and locks it.

He grabs a can of spray. Hurriedly, he starts making sigils against angels and archangels. Banishing sigils, warding sigils, he doesn't give a damn, as long as it keeps angels out – as long as it keeps _Cas_ – out.

He tosses the can in the corner. His hand fucking shakes so Dean clenches it into a fist. He turns around and punches the table. “Damn it!” He fishes out his phone and calls Sam. Nothing but silence greets him. “Come on, Sammy, pick up your fucking phone.”

Dean exhales harshly and tries to calm down. He whispers a prayer hurriedly. “Jack, if you can hear me, I'm in the archives. I've warded the room against angels and archangels. It's Cas. That fucking book. I don't know what it did or _how_ it did it but Cas has the Mark. I don't know where Sam is but you gotta find that book and burn it.“

He opens his eyes and hopes that Jack heard him.

The Men of Letters archives has never been one of Dean's favorite rooms. They usually go there when they can't find anything in the library and that only means that A: they're on a hard case or B: things have gone to shit or C: Dean tries to escape from whatever.

Unfortunately for Dean, today it's all three options today.

Dean walks over to the middle shelves and his fingers dance over boxes and the spine of books. There. He stops and pulls out a box. “Vitam libris magicis scientia”. Dean tosses the lid on the floor and pulls up books; heavy ones, small and leathery ones, books covered with dust and fingerprints. Books that are filled with knowledge from great minds and spells from greater minds. Maybe he can do some kind of blood spell.

A sudden bang startles him.

For the briefest of seconds, he thinks it's Sam.

He's just about to call out when Cas speaks in his usual, dark voice. “Dean! What are you doing? It's late, why are you up?”

Hope makes his heart beat faster.

Maybe things have reverted. Maybe that fucking spell had a time-limit.

“Dean!” Cas yells now.

A chill goes down Dean's back. That's not Cas. Not _his_ Cas anyway. Dean recognizes that desperation, that _need_. Hell, on the darkest of nights he relives it.

The Mark was a heavy burden to bear and he hasn't forgotten.

The door blasts open and books fly all over the place.

So much for the sigils.

Dean gets knocked down and raises his arms up just in time not to get crushed by a shelf. Books fall over him but he gets up and takes a step back. He wants as much distance between himself and Cas as possible.

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas walks over the fallen books like it's nothing and the sigils don't do shit. They don't flash or sparkle, not even a fizzle.

Dean checks after his gun, more out of habit than anything else.

“Ah, I think you're looking for this.” Cas quirks an eyebrow and holds up his gun. He crushes it and the pieces land on the floor with a clunk.

“Cas, listen.” Dean holds out a pleading hand. He avoids looking at the Mark. Even after all this time and this being a fucking curse-Mark from that spellbook doesn't lessen the impact of Dean's memories of how he felt during its influence – of what he did.

Cas cocks his head in a mockery of that gesture that used to be endearing. “Why? You think that you can make me stop? That you can make this fire stop? I'm not like you, Dean. You were ready to watch the world burn – no, you were ready to set the world on fire _yourself_ – but I've been thinking logically about this.”

Dean licks his lips and tries again. “Cas, please. This isn't you. I don't know what the hell that book did or how it conjured that thing on your arm but I know _you._ And trust me, this ain't it.”

“You do know a part of me. But not all of me.”

Dean takes another step back, only to hit a wall. Fuck. And the only things he has to defend himself with are books and folders and he doubts pummeling Cas will make a lasting impression on him, let alone hurt him.

“Cas... Cas. We can help you. Sam and Jack and I can help you. We always find a way. We can do this. Together.” He lets his arms fall, trying to appear nonthreatening to Cas.

Cas grabs a book, reads the title and tosses it on the floor. “You assume I want help. Things have always been complicated when I've been with you, Dean. We kill demons, we don't kill demons. We have shitty fathers – we become fathers ourselves. We kill angels – granted I was an angel too so I am grateful you didn't kill me – we don't kill angels. ”

“You're family, my best friend. Of course I wouldn't –“

Cas raises a finger. “I'm not done. As I was saying. Things were complicated around you. And the blame is not all on you. God has a thing for you, Dean – don't we all?” Cas chuckles at that. “ – but that added some difficulty in your lives, in our lives.”

Dean moves slowly. Maybe he can slide over to the other side and then make a dash towards the door.

Cas sighs. “Dean. No.”

Dean looks at Cas, and the pang of loss he feels when he looks into his blue eyes is palpable. There's no warmth there, no affection. Nothing of what Dean loves about the angel. “What do you mean... no? I wasn't – “

Cas shakes his head in mock disappointment.

Dean feels something tug at his wrists and ankles. He looks down in shock as Cas waves with his hand. The slam into the wall forces air out of his lungs.

Cas walks up to him and grabs his chin forcefully. “You seem to forget.” He pulls up an angel blade and aims the sharp tip at Dean's cheek. “You and I have a profound bond.”

Dean hisses at the sharp pain of the blade against his skin but he refuses to scream. “Are you saying that you can read my mind?”

Cas smiles. “More or less.”

Dean swallows. He conjures up those four walls he hoped he'd never have to revisit again when another angel wreaked havoc – He stops himself and focuses on the room, the texture of the walls, the lack of light, the sturdy locks and bolts on the door.

He really looks at Cas and closes his eyes. He pictures him there, inside that room. He can see Cas in there, hear how his shoes scrape against the floor, how he inhales in surprise as he sees where he is. Dean locks the door with a slam.

Dean opens his eyes.

Cas' eyes widen in surprise. “What did you do?”

Dean thinks about his options. If he distracts Cas somehow maybe he can run or if he screams maybe Sam can hear him. There's the third option of fooling Cas into thinking that he's succumbed, that he's joining Cas' side, whatever the hell that means.

He waits. When Cas doesn't say anything snide back, he knows that it worked. The part of Cas that can read his mind is locked up tight and secured. Dean can hold him. If he could hold the bastard Michael, he can hold Cas.

He shoves down the deep sorrow that suddenly rushes forth – he wishes that he could've held Cas another way. Softly, and with care and love instead.

Cas backhands him.

Pain explodes on his cheek and Dean thinks he can feel the taste of blood in his mouth.

“What did you do?”

Dean turns to the side and spits. He tries to yank on the grace bonds around his wrists but he can't move an inch. It's like his wrists and ankles are melded to the wall.

Cas grabs him by the chin. “I won't ask you again.”

Dean clears his throat. “Why don't you find out?”

Cas lets go of him. “You never give up, Dean. You're like the heart of this family, forever beating resilience, spirit and hope. You're strong that way.”

Dean swallows. It's almost like hearing the old Cas again, his Cas.

“I admire that about you.” Cas aims the tip of the angel blade against Dean's shirt.

“Cas, w-what are you doing?”

Cas ignores him and draws the blade down.

Dean expects to feel the sharp bite of steel but instead, his shirt falls open.

“I don't even know why I bother with the theatrics.”

Invisible knives cut away at Dean's shirt and the fabric falls down to the floor. The sudden cold makes his nipples hard but the uncertainty about what's going on – what Cas will do – causes a chill to run down his spine.

Dean remembers all too well how he was under the Mark. Inhibitions lost, anger right under his skin, and the blood lust and urge to kill riding him hard.

“I'm saving the world”, Cas says simply.

Dean furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

Cas hushes him. “I could have killed the angles, but they're not really my brothers and sisters, not anymore. I'm doomed to murder the world. So the thing goes. But, Dean. You _are_ my world.”

Dean looks at Cas in confusion. “You're not making sense...” Sure, Cas was cursed so maybe that was too grand a wish to make but he needed something, some clue on how to fix this, how to cure Cas.

“You already forgotten, Dean?” Cas aims the blade at Dean's groin and Dean freezes.

What the hell? That is not the kind of blade Dean likes to have anywhere near his cock.

“Instead of murdering the world – not much to rule over if I do, I thought of something better.”

Dean screams out as Cas shoves the angel blade into his stomach. His gut is on fire and blood starts seeping out of the wound.

Cas twists the blade.

Dean groans as his entire body flush with warmth. His shirt clings to his back.

“Are you not grateful, Dean? Instead of murdering hundreds of thousands of people, millions of people, I can just kill you.”

Dean pants as pain continue to pulse through him in waves. “Sammy – Sam is gonna... Sam and Jack are gonna end this.” He can feel blood seeping out with each breath.

Cas presses his body against Dean. “Oh,” he whispers. “I didn't tell you, did I, Dean?”

Dean blinks up at Cas. His vision is going hazy already but there is something in Cas' voice that makes ice coil in his stomach. He pulls at the bonds again, futilely. “Tell me what?”

Cas' whispers hot against his ear. “Your brother is dead. I killed him.”

Dean exhales harshly. “You... you did what?” His heart races in his chest and he thinks he's gonna pass out. This can't be happening. They had a plan. They were gonna beat Chuck, they were gonna end this once and for all – Dean looks down and sees the large pool of blood on the Archive floor.

Sam.

Jack.

Cas...

Everything turns dark.

Dean wakes up and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. His shoulders and neck hurt. Fuck, he needs a new bed. The books and shelves come into focus and Dean realizes where he is, what has happened.

A sickening mix of dread and pain churn in his stomach.

“Ah, there you are, Dean, welcome back. I thought I healed you too late. I can't let the world end so fast. That would be bad storytelling.” Cas cracks his knuckles. “And it would not satisfy the Mark.”

Cas caresses Dean's cheek. “But you'd know all about hunger not being satisfied, wouldn't you?” Cas spears his fingers in Dean's hair and yanks his head back.

Dean hisses. He's grateful that Cas has healed him. He can still escape this, find Jack and Sam –

“Sam. Sammy!” Dean calls out for his brother.  
  
“Dean. What part of 'Sam is dead' don't you understand? Do you need proof? It makes sense. You've always been like that. Needing proofing and seeing for yourself. I can help you with that.” Cas snaps his finger and something materializes in front of Dean.

Dean doesn't make sense of it at first, doesn't want to make sense of it. Can't make sense of it.

There's plaid there, orange and green from a flannel shirt and Dean sees the blood. It's dried up and crusted like it happened a while ago. Dean's eyes slide down, beyond the flannel. He recognizes Sam's fingers curled up, all rigid and wrong.

That's Sam's severed hand.

Dean turns to the side and throws up.

He welcomes the dark.

He wakes up to pain and realizes that he's been backhanded. His stomach on the other hand is fine – healed up.

Cas narrows his eyes. “Passing out just when we had so much fun. Kind of rude of you, Dean.”

Dean's eyes – _someone help him_ – goes down to the floor where... He can't even think it.

The floor is empty save some dark stains. Dean feels bile threatening to rise up.

Cas holds the angel blade in his hand again, and he twirls it around. “It's like a song, Dean. You never told me that calling of the Mark feels like a song. A beautifully, dark, twisted song.”

“Cas...” It's a low, keening sound and Dean jumps when he realizes it comes from him. “Jack,” he whispers.

Cas shrugs. “He's contained somewhere in the Bunker. Poor kid. I think Sam's death hit him hard.” Last time I checked on him, he was all bloody knuckles, trying to get out. Trying to save you. Me..” Cas smiles as if that's amusing. “But I warded the room. Added some old, _old_ magic. Having the Mark gives you some free hints.”

“Now, I can feel the need rising again. It burns in my blood, beats in my chest. I think we could sate two kinds of hunger tonight.”

Dean is too tired, too overwhelmed, too much of everything to even try to make sense of what Cas is talking about.

Cas snaps his fingers.

Dean feels the stone walls against naked skin. Cas has whisked away his clothes. He snaps his gaze to Cas'.

Cas is so close to him that their chests are flush against each other. “Wanna know a secret?”

Dean shakes his head. No he doesn't. He's tired of secrets. He just wants to go home. This can't be real. Sam can't be – Jack can save them. Jack can –  
  


Cas' mouth on his throat makes him freeze up.

A sickening storm of emotions war inside him. Confusion, fear, gratitude, hope.

“I can see this disturbs you”, Cas mumbles against his throat as he slowly kisses Dean.

Dean moves away but Cas' turns his head back with sharp fingers digging into his skull.

Each kiss would have been a blessing, just a day ago, Dean would have died for this. Now he's just gonna die.

Cas' mouth lands near the shell of his ear. His breath as he speaks is hellfire. “I've always loved you, Dean. Since the day I raised you from perdition, I've been in love with you.”

Unbidden tears blind Dean and for a short second, he's grateful that he can't see Cas. That he can't see at all. It's easier to live in denial then and Dean wants to bury himself in it, so deeply, that he'll never find his way back out.

The tears leave a hot trail on his cheek.

Cas nods and smiles against his ear. “It's true, Dean. Let me prove it to you.”

The bonds around Dean's wrists and ankles give way and Dean almost falls to the floor. He doesn't think, he just does.

Dean tightens his fist, ready to smash Cas' face in when invisible hands turn him around and shove him into the wall with such force that the air gets knocked out of him. Dean can't move, he can't talk. Each breath he takes is painful and it wraps around his ribs like steel ropes, constricting him.

Cas' grace swirls around his legs as he yanks Dean's feet and legs apart. Dean tries to move his arms but they're plastered to the wall.

Chills run down Dean's back when he feels Cas' hands on him, caressing his back, almost lovingly. “Please, Cas, just let me go. I won't run, I won't. I'll stay. You don't need to do any of this.”

Cas sighs, almost lovingly. “Dean, I'm not your C-grade monster you can sweet-talk your way out of.”

Dean feels the heat of Cas' body so close to him and when Cas presses his front against him, Dean notices the heat of Cas' skin, the thickness of his cock, how hard he is.

Cas is naked.

This is nothing like when Dean hunts monsters and the fear makes the world sharper, more alive. No. This fear turns everything dull.

Grey.

Black. Like ashes, and death and doom.

“No, no, no, Cas...” He can't believe that he's begging Cas not to, not to – He's dreamed of this moment, dreamed of having Cas so close, of those chafed lips on his skin, of toes in the sand and finally being able to rest and relax. Maybe a cabin in the woods somewhere, preferably by a lake –

Cas' hands are on his back caressing before they slide down to his ass.

He's always loved fishing and maybe Cas would like Dean teaching him how to fish. They could have freshly caught bass for dinner –  
  
Cas kneads his cheeks before he slowly spreads them –  
  
Dean would buy those board games that Cas likes and grumble every time Cas wins. Eileen and Sam could come over for dinner and there would always be a bowl of nougat for Jack –  
  
Cas' thick cock between his ass cheeks cracks the walls Dean's trying to build. He whispers to him in the tone of a lover but it's all wrong. “Can't wait to feel you, Dean. Isn't this better than dying? Not that I won't kill you again. The Mark hungers. But I'll take care of you too. We'll both get what we want.”  
  
Dean's never been a crier. He's always nursed anger closer to his chest but now he bends his neck. His forehead touches the cold wall and he cries.  
  
Cas doesn't warn him.  
  
Pain rips through him as Cas thrusts inside his ass. The pain stuns him. It leaves him hollow, an empty vessel and Cas pours in suffering and hurt instead.  
  
Dean tries to relax – so help him, he tries – but Cas' cock is too thick and Dean's not ready, he's not, he doesn't want to and he breathes out, stutters sounds that doesn't sound like anything a human should make. His body is shaking and Cas' grips his hips and pulls him back, so they're flushed together. They're joined in a mockery of lovemaking but this is as far from love as you can come.  
  
“You feel so good, Dean.”  
  
Dean sobs.  
  
“Shh, it's alright. Let me make it good for you.” Cas tightens his hands on Dean's hips and starts fucking him in earnest.  
  
The sound of Cas' grunts as he thrusts his hips, his cock that fucks Dean's insides and the soft moans he expels are drowned out by the hammering pulse in Dean's head. It's like the ocean is inside him. Dean thinks about the coffin and Michael then and longs for it. He would sell his soul to rest there for eternity; to be whisked away and having nothing but the deep ocean and darkness as company.  
  
Cas hits a spot and Dean clenches his hands. The moan comes unbidden, escapes his lips. Cas' hands come forward then, they stroke his stomach as he keeps pounding inside Dean.  
  
He can feel something trickle down his legs. He doesn't think about that.  
  
“You're so beautiful like this, moaning for me.” Cas' whispers and his words wrap around Dean.  
  
Just for a second, he can pretend that this isn't happening. Not like this. That Cas is loving and kind and he does it because they both want it. Dean wants it like that. Sweet. With Cas marveling at every sound Dean makes, and Dean marvels at Cas and the gift they share with each other. That Cas loves Dean.  
  
Just for a second, Dean can pretend that Cas loves him.

Cas spears his fingers in Dean's hair bringing him back. “No, don't leave me like this. I want you to _feel everything._ ”

Dean moans as Cas fucks him. His cock fills him up and the cursed wall is in the way and Dean has nowhere to go, nowhere to move. He burns. His hole is on fire and he thinks that he will die like this, fucked to death.  
  
He welcomes death.  
  
Each thrust travels through Dean's body, settles like acid in his stomach, boils his blood and slowly something moves.  
  
No.  
  
Bile rises again and Dean feels his cock stir.

Cas kisses the side of his neck. “Told you you'd like this. Fuck, Dean, you feel so good. I wish I would have fucked you sooner.” Cas leans his head on Dean's back and almost lifts him up with his hands.  
  
He hits new places as he thrusts inside Dean like a jackhammer and Dean feels a tightening, feels his ass convulse against Cas' cock.  
  
“Mm, just like that”, Cas murmurs.  
  
Dean's cock is rock hard, and twitches. He can feel the pressure build. He's so tired, his muscles ache, and yet they lock up. He feels his ass clench against Cas' cock.

Cas moans.  
  
Grace hovers around his chest, stroking. Dean screams as a sharp, painful tug on his nipples pushes him over the edge. He comes, ropes of white spilling on the wall as his cock empties itself.

Cas comes seconds later.

Warm cum shoots inside Dean's ass and to his horror, he feels it too. He yanks at his invisible bonds but Cas' hands are there, holding him still. “Soon, Dean.”

Dean stops moving. Maybe it will all be over soon.  
  
Finally, Cas stops and pulls out his cock.  
  
Dean shudders as Cas' come slowly drips out of him.

He breathes heavily but the worst pain is now over. Dean's ass throbs with a dull ache and his knees and thighs burn. He thinks he scraped some skin off the wall.

Dean turns to the side and empties his stomach. It cramps, needing to dispel more. There is nothing left.  
Just like Dean. There is nothing left of him either.  
  
Cas turns him back again, so Dean can face him. “I love you so.” He kisses him on the cheek.  
  
Puke, blood, cum, tears. It's all the same, Dean thinks dully. Fluids leaving the body. “I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel.”

Dean stares at Cas. He should say something.

He looks down at the floor instead, at the colorful blend of pink and red, sickly yellow and the white thick globs. If it were a painting – modern abstract shit – Dean could sell it and make a fortune.  
  


“I understand,” Cas says. “This is all very overwhelming for you Dean. You'll get used to it. If being on Earth has learned me one thing, it is that humans can get used to _anything._ Now it's just a matter of the other thing.”

  
Dean looks up at Cas again. His brain is slow and his thoughts are muddled.  
  
Cas smiles at him. His eyes really are blue. How can anyone have looked at them and been fooled into thinking he was a human?  
  
Dean screams when Cas shoves the knife in his thigh. Every coherent thought shatters and all he knows is pain.  
  
Cas removes the knife and jabs it in the middle of his collar bones.  
  
Dean tries to say something but blood pours out of his mouth. Even more trickles down as Cas pulls the blade out. The tip of the blade pierces skin with every breath Dean takes.  
  
“You always were the heart of this family, Dean. And you're my heart.” Cas shoves the blade and pierces his heart.  
  
The world turns blessedly black.

  
  
Dean comes to, bound to a table. His hands and feet are chained down. The pain is gone.  
  
Cas is there. He smiles as he caresses his cheek, almost tenderly. “Hello, Dean.”  
  
Dean screams.


End file.
